Notice Me
by Fen Jien Ren
Summary: GRIMMULQUI TWIST FOR GRIMM'S DEATH: Grimmjow will never bow down to anyone. Never... but only for Ulquiorra. He wasn't ready to die yet, but for the love that he once had... for Ulquiorra... everything for Ulquiorra.


**Fen-chan:** Light sexual themes are thrown to the mix, and there a character death that were from the original story; consequently, there will be your usual dark and depressing themes. There are lots of chapter breaks here since I followed the flow of the Arrancar arc, and I didn't want to bore you into reading everything all over again. I'm sure all of you remember all the major stuff that happened especially about Ulquiorra and Grimmjow.

* * *

**NOTICE ME**—a _GrimmUlqui one-shot fan fiction_.

Grimmjow closed his eyes and opened his lips instead, inhaling the sand-like fragments of the Cuarta's crystal eye. Everything it had witnessed flashed vividly before his closed eyes, putting life on the pitch-black darkness. There were lively colors, many live and moving organisms, but most of it was about the orange haired shinigami simply being thrown around by the Decima Espada, Yami Rialgo. Soon, the warm lights all over his sight faded, signaling the end of the visual report, and then there echoed the green-eyed Arrancar's smooth voice, saying:

"I found no reason to kill him, as he was incapable to pose any threat to our plans."

Blue eyes rolled to the side, irises concentrated on the brown-haired shinigami sitting on the highest place on the dome. When he heard him agree, accept Ulquiorra Schiffer's judgment, he flicked his tongue. Disgusted with the fellow Espada, he stood up and walked towards the light, eyeing the ever stoic Arrancar.

"That's bullshit," he growled, "You were ordered to kill him, and you disobeyed. You got scared, didn't you? Almost pissed your pants once you got to feel the shinigami's reiatsu."

Ulquiorra turned away from him, closing his eyes and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It is what I said: he was nothing but trash... just as you are, Grimmjow."

"Fuck you. Just admit it, asshole."

"Aizen-sama has accepted my judgment. I find no importance in gaining yours as well." With that, Ulquiorra turned and left the light, heading out of the meeting room as all of the other born Arrancars were doing—Aizen and his two lieutenants already being gone right after the shinigami had given his consent.

**xxx**

An outside force pushed Ulquiorra against the wall as he was walking through the high corridors of Las Noches. This being a frequent occurrence in the past week, the Cuarta Espada no longer found a reason to be alarmed and to defend himself. Simply, as he felt his back pressed firmly against the marble walls with a much larger man covering his whole form, he raised his pale hands to the other Arrancar's shoulders and calmly asked:

"What is it now, Grimmjow?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" The blue-haired Arrancar growled, putting his hands on each of the smaller one's arms and gripping it tightly. "What's the damn deal with that orange-haired shinigami?"

The Cuarta Espada sighed, closing his eyes and lowering his head. "I don't think I need to say it anymore. It has been a week, and the answer stays the same. My words were sincere. I am certain that you understood it just as much as the others have."

"...and I also meant every god damned word I said! If he was nothing, then why didn't you kick the boy's ass like you were fucking ordered to?!"

"Lower your voice, Grimmjow."

"Don't you fucking use your rank against me now, asshole. I'm really, really pissed off right now, and I goddamn swear that I'll rip your head if you piss me off even more."

Ulquiorra opened his lips to give his answer, but before the words flowed out, he was jerked and dragged by the Sexta Espada towards his quarters. Grimmjow was handling him like he was someone else, like he was a prisoner, or a pathetic excuse for an Arrancar. The hand on his wrist was sure to leave a large and dark bruise.

Once they arrived inside, the door slammed shut, he found himself again trapped between his lover and the wall.

"Something's up." Grimmjow growled in his ear, his body pressing against the smaller one. "Something's fucking wrong with you. You haven't been looking at me since you returned." He whispered low, every word gradually being said softer and softer as he slowly descended his lips on the green-eyed Espada's porcelain skin. "You're hiding something from me."

Grimmjow bit, sucked, and licked the large expanse of skin offered to him by his superior in the dimly lit room. He felt Ulquiorra tense in his hold, and heard his breath suddenly hitching. He smirked against the freezing skin, and then straightened his self to look at those green orbs that turned away from him.

It was true, Ulquiorra knew and he was guilty. Grimmjow had been initiating eye contacts since his return, and he had done nothing but turn away from them. Left, right, down, up... it didn't really matter. As long as there were no piercing blue eyes that he had to meet, then it was fine. He'd even settle with just looking at some shadows or through oblivion if there was no longer any chance of escape.

"It hurts me." Grimmjow whispered, leaning forward to wrap his arms around the smaller Arrancar and lay his forehead on his shoulder. This time, Ulquiorra didn't flinch—didn't even move a single muscle. "You're acting like I ain't here... like you don't want me to be here, you fucking prick.

"You'd look my way, but you'd see through me. You'd face me, but you'd look at everything else but me. It's fucking frustrating, Ulquiorra." Grimmjow continued with a mild tone, "It's really hurting me like shit."

Instead of words, Ulquiorra reacted to this with his lips. He slid his hand under Grimmjow's chin and pressed their lips firmly against each other. He closed his eyes, opening his lips even before his lover asked for access with his tongue. Even without a worded reply, Grimmjow didn't seem to mind.

Ulquiorra had memorized him, indeed.

Soon they found themselves over Grimmjow's bed, completely naked with heads stirring with nothing but animalistic desire. Ulquiorra parted his legs to give space for his lover and wrapped them around the waist. Grimmjow pressed a chaste kiss on the pale man's forehead as he intertwined their fingers beside the Cuatra Espada's head, and then pushed through the tight ring of muscle without any preparation.

Ulquiorra threw his head back, fighting back the scream that was ripping through his chest and throat. He bit his lip and let past a low growl to ease just a little bit of pain. He felt his lover tighten his hold on his hand, so he opened his eyes he had instinctively closed.

"You're finally looking at me."

**xxx**

Light crept through the tiny openings in Grimmjow's quarters, the fake warmth tickling the pale skin until the owner woke up. He sat up, rubbing and feeling his eyes swollen eyes, as he pushed the blanket down to his limbs. He cried the whole night—during and even after they made love. The way Grimmjow's eyes looked when he met them, soft, sad, and worried, Ulquiorra just couldn't stop the tears from pouring down. The guilt was already too much to bear before, and it was multiplied twofold when he was reminded just how much he was loved.

_Grimmjow._

He suddenly remembered. Ulquiorra looked beside him, hoping to find the blue-haired Arrancar with messy hair in deep slumber, but he found him not. He was alone, and if the coldness of the empty space was something to go by, Grimmjow had left more than an hour ago.

He furrowed his brows, fisting the cloth beneath his hold.

**xxx**

There were quick movements in the air, the wind getting sliced by the fast pace of two fighters. The first one flew down, the other charged towards. Human senses were unable to follow, and even for their same kind the fight was impossible to chase. A fight of a shinigami and an Espada is a fight like no other, but despite the fact that it was one of the greatest, it certainly has to end.

"Is that all you've got, shinigami?" Grimmjow growled low in his throat, snarling and pissed off beyond belief that the man that Ulquiorra spared was as weak as this. Kurosaki Ichigo was one_ fucking_ trash, indeed, but what Grimmjow couldn't understand was why his lover would do such a thing as to disobey their _God_ for such a _trash._

"Don't fuck with me, brat. Is that all your Ban Kai has to offer? That's fucking bullshit!"

There should be something special, something different that Grimmjow didn't have, but no matter how hard he searched... there was nothing which made it even worse. Had the shinigami gained Ulquiorra's attention that easily? Grimmjow worked for years just to get the Cuarta Espda look his way, a few more to get him talk to him, and even more years before they finally got together. The thought that Ulquiorra had fallen for this boy without the boy even knowing was infuriating, and it angered him more whenever the boy looked at him with those eyes as if he was better. Kurosaki Ichigo had no idea what he did for Ulquiorra.

"C'mon, shinigami!"

"Shut up!" the orange-haired boy cried, the black and red aura swirling around him dangerously. "Getsuga Tensho!"

_What the hell?!_

**xxx**

A month. A month came and went... silently, and so painfully.

Ulquiorra visibly flinched, hearing Grimmjow slam the door close behind him, and buried his face on his pillow. They had been like this for a month now, doing nothing but fucking every single time they meet and it even began to hurt more than it usually did. Ulquiorra managed to justify it though, he thought of what he had done even though he initially did not want to take any part of it. It was orders, and there was nothing he could do about it but carry it out regardless of the people involved. May it be his lover or anyone else, he had to do it and he kept on telling himself that.

Grimmjow also had one arm less since last month, and this was due to the orange-haired shinigami he chose not to dispose of. He did not feel guilty for it, but somehow, at the back of his head, he knew he should've seen it coming. The former Sexta Espada wasn't one to take up competitions well, especially when it comes to standings in strength.

Ulquiorra sat up, pushing the blanket away from his frame to see all the bruises he been collecting this month. He sighed, flinching when the large cut on his lower back started to throb. It was strange, usually his wounds would recover within a minute or so, but the ones Grimmjow had inflicted all appeared to be fresh. Had Grimmjow wanted and planned to see him like this? Perhaps his lover had mixed his own reiatsu every time, and so the wounds would shield itself from anyone else's energy. His and his lover's reiatsu simply clashed. They never knew the reason why.

Looking around, he saw a lump of bandages at the edge of the bed. So Grimmjow finally took them off, not that there'd be any difference since his tattoo had also been gone for a month, and Ulquiorra was the one who made sure of that. He was the one who erased it, who clawed it off his lover's skin, and if it would turn out that it was the reason for all the pain he had been getting from him, then of course, Ulquiorra was ready to accept it all.

He stood up, collecting all his clothes thrown around his room and the roll of bandages, and proceeded to the bath. He walked past the large mirror, but then something in his mind pulled him a few steps back to it. He stared at his reflection, green eyes wandering out the porcelain skin, and then he realized he had been bleeding. His new wound on his back was weeping blood. Ulquiorra turned around, planning to check on how worse it was, but then he froze at the very instant he got a good look at it.

There on his back, on his porcelain skin, was a hateful word engraved deeply by Grimmjow's bare claws. Around it was more scratches, a few even made by Pantera's blade he didn't know his lover had used on him.

_Die._ Ulquiorra read, and maybe, for once, he should take Grimmjow's advice.

**xxx**

"Follow me, woman."

He was ordered to take her, the redhead who had a peculiar ability of time reversal. Ulquiorra did his job well, and this was because Aizen promised him that he would have the woman return Grimmjow's arm, and consequently, his rank. The Curta Espada had enough of Grimmjow's antics, his still bleeding wound on his back being the last straw, but he wasn't one to seek revenge. After all, he was the one who started this all. How many times had they argued because of that one order regarding a certain shinigami that he chose not to do? Grimmjow went from paranoid to crazy in such a short span of time because of it, and Ulquiorra was finally beginning to regret that decision of his from more than a month ago.

They walked in the meeting room, Ulquiorra walking past Grimmjow without sparing him a glance. It wasn't because he hated him, but because every single movement he did was causing the large engraving on his back to hurt, and so he limited it to only those that he really needed to move for. Even when he was just standing, it still hurt. It was like it was ready to rip his skin open and break his back if ever he forgets it... just like Grimmjow's burning glare.

"Show us your powers, Inoue Orihime."

As simple as flicking her fingers, she had brought back Grimmjow's arm within her honey-colored barrier, and before they knew it, Grimmjow was Sexta Espada once again and the former was history. Ulquiorra couldn't say that he didn't saw it coming. From the moment he was confronted by Aizen about this, he already felt sorry for the Arrancar. It was bound to happen, especially when said Former Espada, Luppi, had grown the habit of messing with the _true_ Sexta Espada.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra called as only the two of them were left in the area. His lover's blue eyes turned to him, and by instinct, he turned his own eyes down but kept his ground. His hands hidden in his pockets clenched, his fists making soft cracking sounds with how tight he had closed them, and still he could feel the heavy weight of Grimmjow's eyes as his prepared explanation died in his mouth.

Grimmjow's own speech did not reach any pair of ears, either.

**xxx**

Ulquiorra and Grimmjow managed to get back together with one way or another, but later on Ulquiorra realized that things wouldn't be the same as they were before. He could pretend or he could try, but it really wouldn't change anything and bring back the past. The damage was done, and it was one serious wound in their lives indeed. They still love each other, but whenever they try to say it... it just gets caught in their throat. The love was there, it would always be or so that was what they used to say, but they knew sooner or later it would die. Their pretense would soon crumble down.

They were together, lying on Grimmjow's bed, as they always used to do in their free time. Grimmjow held his lover's hand as he stared up of the white ceiling and sighed, tightening his grip to reassure himself that what he thought was impossible was happening again. He flipped around and turned Ulquiorra on his stomach as well, caressing the large carving he had made on the pale skin.

"Grimmjow,"

Grimmjow moved down, pressing his lips on his hateful engravings, and concentrated all his reiatsu for it to pour out and erase the terrible gash. Ulquiorra felt it and it came to his skin quite warm, making him relax and lethargic. The Cuarta Espada closed his green eyes and completely relaxed, letting sleep overcome him if it would knock on his consciousness.

"I'm sorry," the Sexta Espada whispered after kissing the now clear porcelain skin of his lover one last time, and then moved up to place another on Ulquiorra's forehead. He smiled a little when he realized that the higher-ranked Espada had fallen asleep while embracing a white pillow. It was cute, and it had been long since he had seen him sleep, but the smile disappeared soon after. He supposed that he would never be able to see it again. Whether he would die in the hands of the orange-haired shinigami or Aizen for messing everything up, it didn't really matter because the truth was that he preferred the later.

At least he had proved to Ulquiorra that he was better. That's the only thing that matters.

**xxx**

A rush of swords and limbs, Grimmjow was again fighting against the powerful orange-haired shinigami and how he hated those eyes that just wouldn't stop looking down at him. He had told him to stop so many times, and god damn Kurosaki for not listening. Psh. It's not like it really matters, he'd still chop the boy's arrogant head off even if he listened. The boy was just too big of a pain to spare... and it seemed like Ulquiorra was starting to see that too, but fuck, was he slow. Kurosaki was his prey now, and no one could ever change that.

"C'mon, Kurosaki!" He would always taunt and sneer, because defeating a fuming opponent was the best thing that there was in fighting. The way they curse and cry before they die, it was intoxicating... and God, he swore the shinigami was going to die a painful death. That's his thank you gift for the boy for messing his fucking life up.

But then, he never managed to give it. He lost... so shamefully. He had all the advantages, had his prey cornered like a little mouse as he held woman hostage, but still he lost. Why? Because he still hadn't found that one thing that Ulquiorra saw that he was put second for.

_Damn it._

Defeating the shinigami was pointless if he could not be who Ulqiorra wanted: someone akin to the orange-haired shinigami. He thought everything was about pride and Ulquiorra wanting nobody else but him, but then he realized... that it wasn't it. In truth, he wanted him to be happy, to be contented with him. He was just too selfish to let him go, and so he wanted to be what Ulquiorra wanted or needed to keep him, because he wanted them to be together forever just like he promised the first night.

But if Ulquiorra's happiness is now with the shinigami, then really... it was pointless for Grimmjow to win this, because ending the boy's life would only take his lover's happiness away. He'd rather die than do that, and so...

_Ulquiorra,_

...he would. Grimmjow watched Kurosaki Ichigo break his greatest technique, Laceraccion, and stood his ground. He waited for him to come, listen to the winning cry the boy was making. Soon, he felt the blade cut through his flesh, but he didn't care. This was his gift to Ulquiorra, and he hoped he'd gain any worth in doing this.

But still...

"I will never bow down to someone like you!"

Never, but only for Ulquiorra. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He wasn't ready to die yet, but...

"Fuck you!"

For Ulquiorra... for the love that he once had.

* * *

**Fen-chan:** Eh, I'm also doing Ulquiorra's side of the story as a sequel to this. Again, a GrimmUlqui twist for Ukelala's death and I swear to you that there will be no UlquiOri or IchiUlqui implications... not that I have anything against them. I just want my GrimmUlqui canon moments more. T_T

A new chapter for **Our Greatest Secret** is about to come. It's 70% done.


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